our life begins with promises
of every possibility of joy
untouched by blemishes
nor tarnished by
the cruel stain
of wasted
pressing, ever
passing disappearing
hour by hour destroying
possibilities that, dying,
leave an empty chain of moments


About therevr

A human being, striving to become more so.

Posted on February 2, 1979, in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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